Lyrics of life
by Brown-Eyed Girl 75
Summary: Formerly titled Dedicated to Peter. One shots based on songs featuring the characters of the show, and established OCs. Song suggestions welcome! AS OF MARCH 2/09 ON HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

**I'm new so please be nice. There will be more come in my song stories. I don't have an I-pod so my friend Peter gave me a disc with songs he liked on it and told me to get to work.**

**I do not own CSI:NY or any of its characters so please, TPTB, do not sue. Later chapters will feature my own character as well as the series regulars.**

**All atrists featured, please don't sue either. You've got way more money than I do.**

Chapter One

Rockstar: Nickleback

'This life hasn't turned out quite the way I want it to be."

Adam Ross hadn't always strived to be where he was now. He hadn't always imagined himself wearing a lab coat and peering through microscopes and poking and prodding at complete strangers' nasty ass crap. His first love was music. Listening, playing, writing. The last was his dirty little secret. No one knew he loved to write. He kept folders of hand written lyrics tucked in the back of his closet. He pulled them out whenever inspiration hit. Sometimes it was at work in the middle of running trace samples. Other times it could be three in the morning, woken up out of a dead sleep with a thought gnawing at his brain. He'd only gone to university to pursue an interest in science when his mother expressed shock and horror when he announced he was planning on heading to L.A. to become a musician. She was afraid he'd end up waiting tables or mowing lawns or worse, running drugs and falling in with the wrong crowd. To shut her up and spare her a stroke, he'd filled out that college application and did his four years and... well, here he was. Preparing trace samples to be used to help solve a case someone else would get credit for. And this is my life? he thought with a sigh.

He pressed the play button on the I-Pod tucked into his lab coat pocket and settled in for the long haul. As the first song, blasted into his ears and he began to combine his two loves: music and science, he lost himself in the up beat Nickleback song that he felt adequately served up his true feelings regarding his life. He wasn't even aware he'd been singing along (horribly off key at that) until someone so rudely yanked the ear phones from one ear.

"Hey!" Danny Messer snapped. "Piece of advice. Don't quit your day job."

**Please review. Big thanks to Aphina and Madison Bellows who have inspired my to share my writing!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Okay. Once again: I own nothing or no one you recognize. Me: no money. TPTB and musical artists: shit loads of money. Please refrain from suing 'cause it'll only end up in small claims court.**

**You will be briefly introduced at the end of the chapter to my OC. You'll get the whole low down in further chapters.**

**WARNING: use of swears Monroe bashing. Why do I bash her? 'Cause I can.**

Chapter 2 

She Hates Me: Puddle of Mudd

"I tried too hard and she tore my feelings like I had none, and ripped them away."

Danny was pounding back Jack Daniels shooters like they were nothing more potent than water. Chasing every one with a gulp of beer and a look of sheer agony. It had been going on for the last hour and a half, sitting there at the bar, wallowing in a puddle of self despair and alcohol. Flack had accepted the offer of grabbin' a drink after work because of two things: one, it had been an extremely long, shitty, tiring day of chasing perps (why did they always run when you told them not to?) and listening to gruesome accounts of stomach churning crimes. Two: Danny was hurtin'. And Danny was his best friend and if Danny was hurtin', so was he, and in good faith he could not, and would not, abandon his friend in his time of need. Girl problems. Wait. Correction. Lindsay problems. But what else was new? The girl strung him along, manipulated his feelings for her in order to get whatever she wanted. And when she was done, Danny got tossed like a used Kleenex. Flack found it pathetic. Watching a grown man follow a woman around like a dog waiting to be thrown scraps from the dinner table. Letting himself be kicked around and have his leash yanked, only to look up at her with love and adoration. Waiting for praise. What a good boy am I? And when Danny ordered a bottle of J.D. for himself, Flack decided to stick to coffee. After all, someone would have to lead the little dog home.

Danny wasn't sayin' much. Other than he and Lindsay had gotten into an argument about him being emotionally fragile and her being too hung up on her own petty little problems and never taking the time to ask or show some sort of concern for other peoples' well being and happiness. She'd called him an immature, obnoxious ass and that she didn't have time for his drama. His drama! This coming from the supreme drama queen, throw me a pity party every second day. And he'd said as much and got the door slammed in his face for his effort.

"What is it with women, Flack?" he slurred, absentmindedly peeling the label off of his beer bottle. "Why do they do what they do? Treat us like shit? And why the hell do we put up with it?"

"Its not all women, Danny," Flack corrected. "Just certain ones."

Danny turned, drunkenness and a sudden surge of anger in his eyes. "Ya know what? You never liked her!" he pointed an accusing finger at Flack. "Never!"

"Not true, Danny. Your my friend and I just can't take the way she treats ya."

"Well we can't all have what you have, Flack." Danny said snappily. "We all can't have the perfect marriage and the hot looking wife and the cute little baby. Some of us... some of us just don't have that!"

"Nothing is perfect," Flack remained calm, despite the fact a drunk Danny Messer was way more obnoxious than a sober one. But punching out a drunk, even an obnoxious one, would not solve a damn thing. "But no one should have to work this hard at something. You don't deserve that."

"No... you're wrong," Danny argued. "you're wrong, Flack. It's her I don't deserve. And that's why I'm here. 'Cause she knows I don't deserve her either."

"You're talking a lot of shit, Danny." Flack said with a heavy sigh and pulled out his cell phone to call home and say he was going to be in late. Very late.

_"Lindsay again?" the sleepy voice asked quietly. "Why am I not surprised?"_

With an I love you and kiss the baby for me, he hung up and sipped black coffee and stole a glance at his sombre friend, who was now staring at the bottle of beer as if he was waiting for it to give him advice.

"She hates me," Danny mumbled to no one in particular. "She fucking hates me."

**Aphina: Thanks for your review! I look forward to having you as my Beta. More Adam on the way, I promise.**

**Eddiesgirl: Thank you for reviewing and I hope you keep reading. More Flack to come!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Once again: I own squat. You live in fancy houses and drive fancy cars. Please don't sue!**

**Remember Carter England? (season two, Supermen) Well he's back! Carter was one of my favorite perps ever. I read in an interview with Eddie Cahill that the end of the scene between Flack and Carter in the interrogation room: Carter: "Aww, come on Flack, I thought we were suppose to be like brothers man!" Flack: "Well, sometimes, brothers fight." was ad-libbed and the writer and director loved it and they kept it in. Eddie gave all the credit to the actor playing Carter for making the scene work. They were both great and I just had to put Carter in here when this song came up on the CD.**

Chapter 3

Rehab: Amy Winehouse

"They tried to make me go to re-hab and I said no, no, no."

Flack stepped out of the interrogation room. Frustrated. Angry. His perp had just lawyered up and there'd be no answers that day. No revelations. No confessions, heartfelt or other wise. Nothing but silence. Someone had crazy glued the wackado's mouth shut. The public defender had been called and now the waiting game begun. He just hoped Mac Taylor and his team of brainy scientists could come up with something solid and fool proof. Flack stopped at the water cooler and then made his way over to his desk. A few Tylenol would take care of his nagging head ache and the tightness in his chest that lingered even after two years. All 'cause Dean Lessing, a bigger nut job than the one Flack now had in interrogation cooling his heels, had decided to put a goddamn bomb in a goddamn brokerage firm on what should have been a nice quiet Sunday. And why? To prove a point. What point? I need to be locked in a rubber room and fed a cocktail of lithium and Zoloft and whatever else drug they can pop in there? Only point that needed to be made was that the city was full of crazies and Flack was getting a little tired of chasing them around. Tired. There was a good word. Exhausted was more like it. He'd pulled a double and then gone home to a colicky baby and a stressed out bitchy wife in dire need of some Prozac herself. He loved her. Immensely. She loved him no matter what and gave him the greatest gift he could either receive when she gave birth to their son three months. But sometimes the woman just drove him nuts. And when she got stressed out and that feisty side came out in her and she got on his case and that Brooklyn accent got stronger and stronger the more she got upset, he seriously started questioning his decision to walk down the aisle of wedded bliss.

Cursing the shit ass day and wishing for a couple of hours of sleep that would make him a whole lot more tolerable and a whole lot less cynical, he rounded a corner and there before him stood a familiar, amusing, but not so welcome face. In trouble again. Junkie Carter England being escorted to a holding cell by a uniform.

The day suddenly got a little brighter and a little more interesting. It was like seeing an old friend.

"Flack!" Carter exclaimed happily when he saw the detective. "Long time no see!"

Flack was sure if Carter wasn't handcuffed,the man would have hugged him. "Carter. No offense. I haven't seen your pretty face in a long time, but I was hopin' to never see ya again in here. Never good news. What happened this time? Getting chased by more super heroes?"

Carter snickered. "Ya know how it is, son. There's trouble all around, know what I'm sayin'?"

Flack followed the uniform and Carter. Carter was uncuffed and locked in a cell.

'Treat a brotha right next time!" Carter shouted at the departing uniform's back and plopped down onto the rusted old cot.

"So," Flack said, pulling up a chair and sitting down on the opposite side of the bars. "What you do this time, Carter?"

"Got myself into a little bit of trouble. See, I was jonesin' for a little somethin' somethin' but my usual dude is outta commission. Went somewhere else. Found another guy. And he was a cop, son!"

"When ya gonna learn, Carter?" Flack asked, shaking his head. This life won't get you anywhere."

"Ya think you can do somethin' for your brother, Flack?" Carter asked hopefully. Put in a good word or somethin'? Get me some small time. Yo, I'll die in prison, I'm tellin' ya. And you'd miss me, Flack. Admit it. You would."

Flack couldn't suppress a smirk. "Tell ya what," he said in all seriousness. "You do me a little favor, I'll do one big one for you."

Carter's eyes widened in interest and he slid down the cot to get closer to Flack. "Aw right," he said. "I'm listenin'. What is it?"

"I'll set something up for you to get into re-hab and..."

"WHAT?" Carter shrieked, a horrified expression crossing his face. He jumped up as if someone had shoved a thousand volts up his ass. "Are you insane? You gotta be insane! Not only your hair goin' grey but your brain is malfuctionin', too?"

"Take it or leave it," Flack said. "Time for you to clean up, Carter."

"Ahhh, Flack...how can you do that to me, son?"

"Want my help? Rehab or prison. Pick one."

Carter considered it. "You gonna help me out by trying to get me into rehab?" he asked incredulously.

Flack nodded. "Will you go?" he asked.

Carter shook his head. "Ahh hell no. No... no... no."

**If the word wackadoo seems a little wierd, Flack actually used it once before in Season 2,GrandMurder at CentralStation.**

**Thanks to everyone reviewing and enjoying. Big thanks to Maddison Bellows and Aphina again for getting me onto this. Big, big thankies!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Me no money. You richies lots of money. I own nothing. Na-da except for my OC coming up.**

Chapter 4

Where is the love: Black Eyed Peas

"People killing people dying

children hurtin you hear them crying

Can you practice what you preach?

Would you turn the other cheek?

Father Father Father help us

Send some guidance from above

'Cause people got me questioning where is the love?"

"What we got?" Stella asked, as she ducked under the crime scene tape, kit in hand, greeted by Detective Don Flack who wore a grimace on his face and a look that clearly said this was one of the worst he'd seen in a while. And he'd seen enough to give any normal person horrific nightmares.

"Can't ya smell it?" he asked, attempting to breathe through his mouth to keep the acrid stench from turning his stomach.

"I can smell it, but I can't see it." Stella said, falling in step beside him as he led the way down the narrow, garbage strewn alleyway in the Bronx. It was a cold and dismal late fall afternoon. Sky gray and cloudy. A subtle wind stirring the trash on the ground and sending a slight chill down Stella's spine. "So?" she asked, anxious to change to subject to something a little light hearted. "How's fatherhood treatin' ya?"

"Stel, you ask me that nearly every day." Flack informed her. 

"Just checking to see if the answer has changed." she said with a grin. 

A lot had changed about Flack in the past year and a half since the day that Detective Samantha Ross, older sister of their lab tech Adam Ross, had transferred from the Phoenix, Arizona Crime Lab. She and Adam were originally from New York City. Born and raised half their lives in Brooklyn before their father died and their mom took up with another man who got a job opportunity in Phoenix. Samantha Ross was a university grad with a masters in forensics and a b.a in criminal profiling. She was also a hell of a cop.Tiny and feisty with a mouth on her that could sometimes make a drunken sailor blush. Thick dark hair that tumbled to her waist and golden eyes that sparkled when she smiled and a laugh that brightened any day. Flack had fallen hard and fast. They both had. And before anyone knew what hit them,the guy who swore he'd never get married or have kids, was doing just that. Amazing what a good woman will do for a man. He was loving and attentive and romantic. Flack romantic? Certainly not a side of him anyone else saw. And she kept him in line too. She wasn't afraid to tell him where to go and then give very detailed instructions on how to get there. She reminded everyone of Aiden. Tough and beautiful and fearless to a fault.

"Other than the serious lack of sleep due to the fact the kid's been colicky for what seems like forever and no matter what we do seems to help, I'd say its treatin' me all right. Not easy, but when have I ever backed down from a challenge? Diapers, feedings, baths. You name it, I do it."

"An attentive, proud daddy. You're a thing of beauty, Flack."

"What can I say? I'm a study in contradiction." Flack said. He stopped at a large blue industrial garbage bin that was shaking, the banging and thumping inside making it seem as if there were a hungry bear in there looking for a meal. He banged his fist twice against the side. "Help's arrived," he announced.

Hawkes' handsome face, mouth and nose covered with a surgical mask to block the smell, suddenly appeared over the edge of the dumpster. "Hey, Stel," he greeted somberly.

"Ya wimp," Flack teased. "Suck it up like the rest of us. You were an ME. Supposed to be used to the smell."

"What we got?" Stella asked.

"Obviously a dump job," Hawkes said. "There's no blood or trace evidence, biological or otherwise, anywhere outside this dumpster. Female, vic, Caucasian, nearly full decomp. According to the liver temp, she's been dead approximately twenty hours."

"No i.d. Nothing." Flack added. "Naked as the day she was born."

"Ligature marks to the throat, defensive wounds to the arms," Hawkes continued as Flack wrote everything down in his memo book. "Blunt force trauma to the occupit part of the skull, an a single stab wound to the lower left abdomen. Very little blood present. Perp obviously let her bleed out before dumping her here."

"Initial COD?" Stella asked.

"Hard to tell," Hawkes replied. "Both injuries and the strangulation could have killed her. And she's young, too."

"How young is young?" Flack was almost afraid to ask.

Hawkes glanced down at the body. "Based on the teeth and the stature of the build, I'd say between 10 and 14."

Stella shook her head sadly.

Flack saw red and had to fight back the bile that rose in his throat.

"No one has any love or any respect for each other this day and age," Hawkes said with a sigh.

"What is wrong with people these days?" Stella asked quietly.

"People?" Flack snorted in disgust. "What 's wrong with the entire fucking world?"

No one had an answer for that.

**To Maddison Bellows and Aphina: just a snippet of my oc. You'll get to meet her head on in a little bit. I'm also in the process of wrting a story that will talk abut how she and Flack met, their relatioship and so on. I wanted someone like Aiden because Flack needs a woman whose a challenge and I loved Aiden and miss her. **


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

99 Problems: Jay-Z

"If you're havin' girl problems, I feel bad for ya son

I got 99 problems but a bitch ain't one."

Mac Taylor had problems. A stack of case files on his desk that seemed to mate and mulitply when he wasn't looking.The brass of the NYPD breathing down his neck because he wasn't sticking to a ridiculously tight budget regarding lab spending and too muchemployee overtime. At the same time howeer, they wanted quick and accurate results and case closures that could not be done unless Mac had the proper equipment and the proper staff manning it. Can't be the best lab in the country running on short staf f and less than cutting age systems. But you couldn't tell the higher ups that. They'd long ago forgotten what it was lieke to be out in the field doing the grunt work. They were all about budgets and politics and making sure they made nice with the press and the public. All Mac wanted was to make the city a better place one case at a time and politics be damned. Want politics? Watch the Situation Room on CNN and stay out of MY lab.

On top of that, word had trickled around regarding the descension and awkwardenss that consumed everyone when Danny and Lindsay were so as much within a hundred yards of eachother. The rest of the team were getting uncomfortable working around them, finding themselves in the middle of a lovers' tiff when all they wanted to do was their jobs. And when Hawkes, the epitome of class and calm and composure, and Adam, the poster boy for light heartedness and well loved for his easy going, affable nature, were complaining about things, you knew it was bad. Other than pulling both Danny and Lindsay into the office for a serious dressing down, Mac had done what he could to quell the situation. Keeping them on speerate cases, rotatiing their shifts. But the team was tight and well oiled - soething Mac was immensely proud of- and no one seemed to be able to stay away from eachother. Particularly Danny and Lindsay. It was as if they enjoyed emotinally tormenting each other. Mac had no problem with office romances. He'd be a hipocrit if he did. He had dated Peyton and now he was with Stella. And Samantha and Flack successfully balanced work and love. They kept their personal problems just that. Personal. All Mac asked was that if coworkers felt a need to venture into something,at least keep things separate. Business on one hand, love on the other. Never the twain shall meet. Some were excelling. Others flounderng. Mac did not have time or enrgry to be a referee or relationship counsellor.

He was immersed in work when a loud knock came to his office door. Glancing up, he was greeted by the flushed, rattled face of Adam, the serene calm face of Hawkes, and the pissed off face of Flack. Not that a pissed off Flack was uncommon or something to be overly concerned about.

"Mac, the three of us," Flack gestured to himself and Adam and Hawkes. "We need a word."

"About?" Mac asked. As if he already didn't know.

"Adam nearly got his head just ripped off," Flack replied. "and Hawkes was just in there trying to talk to me and all hell broke loose and well, here we are."

"Adam," Mac said. "What happened?"

"I was just trying to get to the GC/MS," he rambled. "Its all I wanted to do. Danny and Lindsay were right there figthing, having it out and I asked politely if I could get by and Lindsay, well she jsut snapped! I've never heard that kind of language from a girl and that says a lot considering my sister can curse with the best of them and I'm always telling her that..quot;

"Adam, " Mac said. "Take a breath."

"You gotta do something, Mac!" the lab tech iplored. "Its unbearable. I don't even want to come to work anymore and I love work. I know they're having problems and all and I feel bad, I do, but we all have problems and we don't bring them here."

Mac contemplted everything. "All right.. I'll see what I can do," he said dismissively.

The three left the office, slightly satisfied. And he heard the young lab tech say to the two older men:

"Danny and Lindsay drama is exaclty why I like being single."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Finally: Fergie

"Finally, my destiny can begin,

though we will have our differences

something strange and new is happening.

Finally, now my life doesn't seem so bad.

It's the best I've ever had,

gave my love to him, finally."

(grabs a kleenex. Sniffles. Pee-tah, you are such a damn sap. This is Pee-tah and mine's wish come true. Stella andMac)

Stella sat in the stillness of her apartment, staring out the window at the dim light of dusk, a glass of red wine in one hand, the hand of the man she loved in the other. Long ago she'd formed the rule that no men were allowed in her place. In case something went bad, she always had some place to go home to. She should have moved after the incident with Frankie. For a long time every time she glanced at her bed or a certain spot on the floor, or she tried to relax in the tub, she was haunted by the events of that horrifying, fateful day. The physical scars had faded, but the emotionally ones still lingered. They usually hurt the most. And then the joke that was Drew Bedford. He'd used her just to get to Mac. And right when she was beginning to trust him and really like him. Her image of men had been irreversibly tarnished.

Or had it? They'd worked together so long. Harbored unspoken feelings. She hadn't been looking to fall in love. She'd wanted some time to re-discover who she was, emotionally get back on her feet. He'd asked her out for a coffee after work one night and when he walked her home, he'd suddenly taken her hand and she found herself not taking it back. And when she allowed him to walk her right to her apartment door and lightly kiss her goodnight, she knew that this was the one. He'd been the one all along. Right there in front of her. Six months had passed and her life had never been more complete. She'd never felt so much for another. So much trust. He'd come into her apartment on the third date. Breaking down that last proverbial wall. And he never left.

Now, stretched out on the couch, he leaning against the arm with his own arms around her and she leaning against his strong chest, she felt relaxed and safe and secure. He'd told her he loved her that morning. That he'd loved her so long and felt scared to do anything about it. She loved him too. Wholly and completely. And told him so under an onslaught of tender kisses.

"Stella?" the soft, deep voice asked in her ear.

"Hm?" she turned her face into a soft kiss on her temple.

"I thought maybe you were asleep," he said.

"No..not asleep..just comfortable..happy..quot; she said, eyes closed.

He smiled. Kissed the top of her head. He released one arm and reached under the sofa cushions .

She felt him place something on her chest and she opened her eyes to see what it was. A small blue box. She'd recognize that little blue box anywhere. Tears pooled in her eyes. Her hands shook as she sat the wine glass on the coffee table and picked up that box. "Is this a..quot;

"Open it," he encouraged, interrupting her gently.

With a shaky breath, she did just that. Greeted by a beautiful pear shaped diamond in a thick gold band. "Oh my God," she breathed and clasped her other hand to her mouth.

"Stella," he fought back his own tears. "Make me the happiest man alive by saying you'll be my wife. By completing me."

She nodded, tears spilling freely down her cheeks as she looked up and back at him. "Of course, Mac.. yes.. of course..quot;

He smiled. Cried tears of his own as he kissed her.

Finally. She thought.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

See You Again: Miley Cyrus

"I've got a way of knowing,when something is right.

I feel like I must have known you

in another life."

**(Pee-tah! WTF! From Nickleback and Puddle of Mudd to Hannah Montana! You are one eccletic fella, I'll give ya that much. Much respect to Miley. Hannah Montana. Whatever. And her fans. Gotta admit. This is pretty darn catchy.**

Hawkes had been searching for evidence when he found something entirely different and unexpected. There he was, combing through the cluttered stock room of a bodega on 54th street, looking for something, anything that would suggest who had murdered the elderly clerk and left him in said room, only to be found by his now overly distraught and grieving widow. She was out front being treated for shock by EMS and answering Detective Angell's questions in broken English. He could hear muffled voices through the walls. So far, he'd come to the conclusion that the man had been in the stock room running errands, someone had come through the rear door the man had left open, expecting a delivery, and had shot him for all of the ten bucks he had in his pocket and whatever merchandise they could scoop before the man hit the panic button on the wall and sent his wife running and the cops on their way. Latent shoe prints in the back hall way, the stock room itself and in the alley out back told Hawkes as much. One GSW to the chest had given him a COD, but Sid would be able to tell him more once he posted the body. The MEs office had removed it not long ago. Leaving Hawkes alone to work.

For now, he concentrated on taking more overalls of the scene with his camera and then would graduate to dusting for prints and looking for trace. He wished he had some help. But it was a crazy Friday in the city and everyone else was out at their own scenes and Danny had called in sick. No surprise. Lately he'd been doing it a lot. At least after Mac got a hold of him and Lindsay, things had improved. Slightly. Didn't hurt either that Danny had been staying with Flack and Samantha and aiding in the care of his Godson had given Danny something else to enjoy and concentrate on. He'd taken the kid to the zoo yesterday to give mom a break. It was nice to see Danny lightening up a bit.

Hawkes was hunched down, snapping photos, when he felt a presence and saw a pair of feet in the doorway. Little feet. Not a kid or anything. But little nonetheless. Clad in well polished black leather boots and the hint of the bottom of grey slacks showing.

"Can I help you?" he asked, without looking up.

"Actually, I believe I can help you." a soft,delicate voice answered.

Hawkes looked up and over. Something magical about the voice. There in the doorway stood a tall, slim woman with curly strawberry blond hair and green eyes. Dressed conservatively in the grey dress pants and a black turtleneck and a black trench coat. Badge clipped to the waist band of her pants.

"I'm Alexis," she announced. "Alexis Campbell. May I?" she gestured to the scene.

"Of course." Hawkes said and stood up. "I'm Sheldon Hawkes." he offered a hand.

"Don't you mean, Doctor Sheldon Hawkes?" she countered, green eyes sparkling as she shook his hand.

"How did you...?"

"Detective Taylor told me. I'm on loan here. With one detective off on maternity leave and others that haven't been so reliable lately, he put in a call to my boss down in Chicago and here I am. At your service."

"You're a CSI?" Hawkes inquired.

"Precisely." she replied.

Hawkes smiled. She thought he had a nice smile to go with his even nicer face. He thought she was astonishingly attractive with the most lovely skin and eyes he'd ever seen. He'd never been that quickly attracted to someone before. and the feeling was overwhelming and scary. And oh so right.

"Well it's pleasure to have you aboard." he said and bent down to pull a pair of latex gloves from his kit, handing them to her.

She smiled as she took the gloves. Their fingers met. Briefly. Enough time for a little something to pass between their eyes and their smiles. "Trust me," she said sincerely as she snapped on the gloves. "The pleasure is all mine."


	8. Chapter 8

**Same old, same old. Me broke, you no get nothing.**

Chapter 8

Wish You Were Here: Pink Floyd

"How I wish, how I wish you were here.

We're just two lost souls swimming in fish bowl, year after year.

Running over the same old ground.

What have you found? The same old fears. 

Wish you were here."

**All right. Pee-tah. WTF again! What is going on here? How do you go from Miley to Pink Floyd? Amazing band, amazing song. Enough said.**

**Here she comes. MY first OC. Yep. Mrs. Flack. And the mystery baby. The first name means black or dark in Ireland and the middle name, well its just an homage to a long passed character of this show. The third name? Well, come on, Donald has to be in there somewhere.**

"Danny, I don't really think this is such a great idea." She said skeptically, as her friend and co-worker and sometimes nanny, opened her car door for her and offered a gentlemanly hand. She accepted, taking his hand and stepping out of the car. A brisk wind whipped at her dark hair and she struggled to keep it off of her face. 

Despite the bright sunshine on this mid November day, there was a chill in the air. That morning there'd been frost on the old pumpkin, as her grandmother had been known to say. Thanksgiving was a weekend away. Stores were already putting up Christmas decorations. The Thanksgiving day parade hadn't even passed and the city was already gearing up for the Santa Claus one. Radio and television were playing toy ads every second commercial. Like wise the ones for jewelry that went hand in hand with the big jolly man in the red suit.

Today, Danny had other things in mind other than decking the halls the rocking around the Christmas tree. And that's' why they were standing there at the side of his car. They'd become fast friends. The often troubled, sarcastically funny and easily well liked Danny Messer and the outgoing, warm and welcoming Samantha Flack, one Samantha Ross, originally from Brooklyn. She'd managed retain that accent while away in Phoenix. And it was why Danny had bestowed upon her the nickname of Brooklyn. Now that he'd retired Montana (for good, he swore) the nickname meant more to Samantha, who'd once cursed him for not being more original. Danny was like a brother to her. No offense to her brother Adam. She adored baby brother Adam and wouldn't give him away for all the money in the world, but she honestly had more in common with Danny. And she hated seeing him so despondent. And she swore, when she went back to work in a few months and felt so much better, she was going to take Lindsay into an alley somewhere and lay a good old fashioned, passionate Brooklyn ass whuppin' on the girl. Not that she'd ever say her plans out loud. Her husband would only give her a weird look and have some smart ass comment about her wearing sweatpants and his t-shirt all the time and threatening to pummel someone? Can't she be more girly? As if it wasn't girly enough to get all fat and pregnant and not be able to see your feet and tie your shoes and then have to go through twelve hours of the most excruciatingly pain of her life. She loved him. More than life. But sometimes... God sometimes he was just such a pain in the ass. Such a man! And he'd learned right quick that unless he wants a sore ass and back from sleeping on the couch for the rest of their marriage, he best be keeping his mouth shut.

"What's a matter?" Danny asked, leaning into the back seat to unbuckled the car seat and gently lift the tiny, delicate, sleeping form from the confines of it. "Place gave ya the creeps or something'?"

"No... it's just... this doesn't feel right," she said, glancing around. "I feel weird. Guilty almost."

"You are weird." Danny informed her, turning to face her, the infant in his strong, protective arms. "Here, go see your mama," he said, and passed over the snugly wrapped baby. "What ya feel guilty about?" he asked as he shut the doors and locked up the car. Laying a secure hand on the small of his best friend's wife back, he led the way down the gravel path.

"I don't know." she replied. "I just do."

"Brooklyn, that is not a suitable answer for anyone over seven." he informed her. "Not like we're doing anything scandalous or illegal. But if you're up that sort of thing, I'm game."

She frowned. "I just feel weird, all right. Like I shouldn't be here. Why am I here?"

"Because I want you here." he said matter of factly.

She smiled. "I didn't even know her," she said sadly.

"Don't matter. Flack did. And that's Flack's kid and I think she should meet Flack's kid. And if you had have known her,you two woulda loved each other. Trust me."

"Still kinda weird." she sighed, rocking the baby slightly. At three months, Kieran Aiden Donald Flack was a spitting image of his father. Head full of dark, wavy hair, big blue eyes that captivated anyone who looked into them, dimples in his cheeks. Even the same big feet and hands. Not to mention the appetite. Kid could eat like nothing Danny had ever seen.

They stopped at a small grassy patch underneath an elm tree. Neither of them spoke. Birds chirped in the trees and branches swayed and shuddered and the baby made soft noises in his sleep. Samantha didn't know what to say. Or if she needed to say anything at all. She stood looking down at the simple polished grey head stone, then casting glancings at Danny. On her third glance, she noticed tears streaming down his face.

"Danny," she said quietly and laid a gentle hand his arm.

"I wish you were here, Aiden," he whispered to the stone. "God how I wish you were here."

**Thanks to everyone reviewing and enjoying. Aphina, you're the best!**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Locked in the Trunk of a Car: The Tragically Hip

It's a cool, sweet kinda place

where the copters won't spot it.

And I destroyed the map. I even thought I forgot it.

However, every day I'm dumping the body."

**All right! Classic Canadian band! My favorite Canadian band actually. Pee-tah, you do love me. This goes out to all the Hip fans as well as all the CSI:NY fans!**

**This takes place four months after the previous chapter. Established Flack/OC relationship. Mac and Stella and Hawkes/OC. Don't worry. Danny and Adam will be getting some love soon.**

"How's it feel to be back?" Hawkes asked, as the dearly missed brunette detective slid into the passenger's seat of the Avalanche he was behind the wheel of.

"Honestly?" she asked as she buckled her seat belt and slipped a pair of sunglasses over tired eyes. "I'd much rather be a stay at home mom. But its massively expensive living in the city and we couldn't do it on just Don's salary. Hard enough on his money and maternity benefits. So here I am, back to the grind. You miss me?"

"You really have to ask that?" Hawkes asked with a bright smile as he put the truck into drive and pulled out into traffic. "Hasn't been the same without you here. We didn't have anyone to break up Danny and Lindsay when they got into it. Can you believe she took that sabbatical?"

"I think it'll do them both a world of good," Sam said. 'They were one step away from killing each other. And when that happens, and it happens to everyone, trust me, its always good to take a little break. But she's been gone for three months. And no one's heard from her. That I find a little odd."

"Maybe its easier for her not to have anything to do with any of us." Hawkes reasoned.

"Maybe. But from what I've heard, things are less tense at the lab and Mac isn't biting peoples' heads off as often. Adam was giving himself an ulcer from the Danny and Lindsay stuff never mind the reamings he was getting from Mac. And from what I've seen personally, with Danny, he's more at ease. He's smiling a lot again and cracking those lame ass jokes and he's laughing more often. The old Danny. Not to mention I have my couch back again."

"And its good to have new faces in the lab." Hawkes added with a smile.

"Especially for you." Sam laughed. "Don't blush, Sheldon. Its true. You and Alex are getting mighty cozy from what I've been told."

"And who told you that?"

"A little birdy."

Hawkes grinned. "She's a really nice girl. Smart, sexy, funny. Whole package."

"What is it with that place? All the love connections. Must be something in the water."

It took them fifteen minutes to drive to their scene in Queens. A security guard at a high rise had been doing his usual rounds that morning. Checking on residents vehicles, making sure everything was locked up nice and tight, making sure no one was hanging around, looking like they were up to no good. He'd been heading back to his cubicle when he heard something out. The muffled sound of someone yelling and a loud thumping noise. Closer he looked, he saw the trunk of a Honda shaking and shuddering as someone pounded on it. From the inside. When he went over to check, he distinctly hearad someone yeling "Hey! Hey! I'm in here!" He called the cops, who busted the window in order to pop the trunk. They thought maybe it was a random car jacking or robbery gone bad, until they went to rescue the occupant. Inside the blood filled trunk, was two things. A man alive and well, albeit panicking, and a woman very much dead with half her face missing.

Pleasant to say the least for a first day back.

"Strange one, huh?" Angell commented as she met the two CSIs at the truck. "Hey, Sam. Welcome back."

"Thanks."

It was the extent of the conversation between the two women. Things had gotten frosty when a rumor had gotten back about Angell putting the moves (or at least trying to put the moves) on Flack at an NYPD event that Sam, nine months pregnant at the time, had been too ill and uncomfortable to attend. It wasn't that Samantha didn't trust her husband. But at nine months pregnant when you feel as big as house and your self esteem and confidence goes down the shitter, the last thing you want to hear about is someone as pretty as Angell hitting on your husband. Anyone hitting on your husband, for that matter. Pretty or ugly. And what did it say for a woman who would hit on a guy whose wife is ready to pop out his kid? Lack of class and tact, obviously.

"Whoa..." Hawkes commented, whistling lowly at the sight of the open trunk, blood in every knook and crannie. "Its a hell of a mess."

"Car belongs to a Robert Foster," Angell read off her log book. "He's the regsitered owner and the other occupant of the trunk. The deceased is his wife, Amy. They're from Far Rockaway."

"Far Rockaway?" Sam arched an eyebrow and snapped open her kit. She took out a pair of gloves and snapped them on. "How'd they end up here?"

"He says that when they were both leaving for work this morning, a man with a mask over his face accosted them in their driveway," Angell replied. "Took all their money, credit cards and what not. Forced them into the trunk and drove them here. Said that the guy opened the trunk and shot the wife because, and I qoute, 'she was making too much noise.'."

"Uh... yeah..." Sam snickered. "I'd be making a hell of a lot of noise if I was locked in the trunk of a car, too." she took out her ALS light and went to work studying the interior of the trunk while Hawkes stuck to the body. "High velocity spatter," she announced. "Trace amounts of GSR."

"Seems a little wierd if you ask me," Hawkes commented. "Usually, car jackers will tie you to subdue you and what not. And why not just drop them off somewhere and steal the car? Brand new Accord. Things are a hot commodity these days. Doesn't make sense."

"Sheldon, when does this job ever make sense?" Sam countered. "Look at these marks on the inside of the trunk." she pointed a gloved finger at very fine, yet noticeable row of scratch marks. 

"They were fighting like hell to get out," Hawkes said, shaking his head. "Could you honestly imagine being locked inna place this small?"

"Like being locked in a coffin." Sam said and suppressed a shudder. Casting a glance down at the deceased woman below them, she felt an immense feeling of sadness and despair and wanted nothing more than to go home and hug her little son. Drown herself in his innocence. You poor thing, she thought, and brushed a way ward strand of hair of the woman's face. I can only imagine what you were thinking. What was going through your mind.

But you never imagined you'd spend your last minutes alive, locked in the trunk of a car.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The Hockey Song: Stompin' Tom Connors

"Oh the good ole hockey game

is the best game you can name.

And the best game you can name,

is the good ole hockey game."

**Hockey and Flack. My two favorite things. If you don't like Stompin' Tom, just think of other artists that have covered this song. This is for all the Canadians reading this, especially any east coasters. All I have to say is : GO DEVILS! (sorry Leafs fans. And much much sorry to any Rangers and Islanders fans I may have alienated).**

"You're going to have to explain this to me before it starts." Alexis said, as she, Samantha and Stella took up three of six seats in a row of twelve in the gold section at Madison Square Gardens. The sell out crowd was filling into their seats and an excited buzz was filling the massive arena. 

The Rangers had made it into the play-offs and were playing the much hated Buffalo Sabres for a chance to advance to the Eastern Conference final in hopes of making it all the way to the Stanley Cup finals. Flack had scored tickets in the sweet seats from a guy in public relations he'd helped out of a tight spot a couple of weeks back. Enough seats for three couples. Flack and Sam (who had managed to convince Adam to baby sit after bribing him with free food and access to an X-Box 360 and money to rent as many games as his little heart desired), Danny and Stella (Mac had to work late, nothing new, and Danny didn't want to go alone) and Hawkes and Alexis. Alexis had never watched a hockey game on t.v. let alone attend one, and she was amazed at how seriously the fans took it all. Decked out in expensive team jerseys and their faces painted in Rangers red, white and blue. Some even wearing crazy coloured wigs and carrying homemade signs supporting their favrite player. Whoever this Jaromir Jagr guy was, he certainly was popular.

Samantha looked at her friend as if she'd just sprouted another head. She and Alexis had gotten close over the past two months they'd worked together. Mac liked their results as a twosome so much, nine times out of ten he had them working their magic together. She certainly found it easier getting to know the girl from Chicago than it had been getting to know Lindsay, who at times was emotionally closed off and distant and never seemed to be too interested in being someone's friend unless she could get something out of it. The girl had way too baggage and let everyone know about it. Alexis was funny and easy going and had a heart of gold. And she'd really done a number on Hawkes. No one had ever seen him as happy as he'd been since that first time he laid eyes on her in that bodega stock room.

But for someone from Chicago to not know hockey? Appalling.

"What's there to explain?" Sam asked. "It's a hockey game. Two teams trying to put as many pucks in the other team's net as possible in three periods, twenty minutes each."

"But what are all those lines for? Blue ones, red ones..."

"If your team mates tries to pass you the puck and you go over the line before the puck does, , its called offside." Sam explained, pointing the different lines out. "If you shoot the puck from your end and it goes over two lines and all the way to the other teams end and they touch it, that's called icing and the puck goes back to your end for the face off."

"Off side, icing, face offs..." Alexis was scribbling everything down with a pen and pad of paper she kept in her purse.

"Are you seriously taking notes?" Sam asked. "Oh my god, you are! Notes on hockey? You'll just retain all the info in your head and use it at a later date. Trust me. Its not that complicated."

"Unless you get into time outs and penalities," Stella said.

"Stel," Sam warned. "Don't confuse the poor girl anymore than she already is."

"Time outs and penalities? What the..."

"Teams can take time outs to stragetize and penalties are bad things. High sticking, slashing. Just basically kicking the crap out of someone. That kind of thing."

"Basically what Sam does at work on a regular basis." Stella laughed and Sam tossed a piece of popcorn at her.

"Where's the beer?" Stella wondered and looked up the stands to see if their dates were on the way yet. "I need beer. i crave alcohol."

"You know, Stel," Sam said teasingly. "The department has counsellors who can hep you shed such evil vices."

"Listen here, little one, I will kick your ass up and down this arena." Stella joked back.

Sam stuck her tongue out at her.

The guys returned with the beer for the six of them. As Flack sat down beside his wife, he looked over at the notebook in Alexis' hand and looked at his wife with an eyebrow arched.

"I'm giving a hockey tutorial," Sam explained. "She's an NHL virgin."

"That's about all that's virgin around here," Danny chuckled and received a slug in the arm from Stella.

"How does a girl from Chicago not know anything about hockey?" Flack asked, sipping his beer. "The city is home to one of the original six."

"The what?" Alexis asked.

"Original six." Sam replied. "League started in 1920 with ten teams but the depression wiped them all out financial, except for the New York Americans, now the Islanders. They went down the shitter when World War II hit and armies wiped out every roster of most their players. Left the NHL with the original six. New York Rangers, Toronto Maple Leafs, Detroit Red Wings, Montreal Canadians, Boston Bruins and the Chicago Blackhawks."

"That's my girl." Flack said in praise.

"No woman should know that much about hockey."Alexis said in complete awe.

"Its why I married her." Flack concluded, and wrapped his arm around her shoulders and kissed the side of her head sweetly. "I could still watch my Rangers and get laid all in one night."

Sam slapped his stomach playfully. 

"You're a lucky bastard, Flack." Danny said, shaking his head.

"Here I was thinking it was my sense of humour and girl next door looks and my feminine wiles." Sam said and kissed her husband's cheek.

"It was your feminine something, all right." he said and cast a glance at her chest.

Sam stuck two fingers in his beer and flicked it in hs face.

"I will never remember all this." Alexis sighed, staring at her book.

"Don't worry, sweetie," Hawkes said and pecked her cheek. "Just remember we're here to have fun."

"And," Flack added, wiping beer from his face with the front of his shirt. "That hockey is the greatest game on earth."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Hurt: Johnny Cash

"I wear this crown of thorns 

upon my liar's chair.

Full of broken thoughts

I can not repair.

Beneath the stains of time,

the feeling disappears.

You are someone else,

I am still right here."

**This is a little angsty folks.**

Flack didn't recognize the man sitting before him. Across the table in an out of the way dinner in an out of the way place across town. The man who had done little for him all his life other than pass down his name and a looming shadow nearly impossible to get out from under. The man who called himself dad but never proved that he was. As a kid, he'd accepted his father's prolonged absences as a casualty of the job. He was out there, puttin' his ass on the line protecting the city, ding noble, brave work. It was understandable that there was little or no time to shell out to family. Leaving the house work and child rearing to a wife that hadn't felt appreciated and loved in a hell of a long time. Who cried herself to sleep at night, bedroom door locked while her son sat outside the door, pushing Kleenexes through the crack and trying his best to soothe her. No nine year old should be witness to that. When he was nine he began really noticing what was going on around the house. His mother slipping brandy into her seven a.m. coffee and many more after that, the bruises she attempted to hide using make up on her face and long clothing even on the hottest of days. Went well with the bruises the kids routinely sported to school and were told time and time again to say they'd got them from playing sports or rough housing. To never, ever say dad did it because if it got back to him like stuff always did, you were in for the beating of your young life. He was never around. It was always mom that got you to early morning hockey practices and made sue you were signed up for basketball in time and helped with your homework and came to meet the teacher night and the occasional meeting with the principal when you got in trouble. And no one saw anything wrong with that. All anyone saw was that Don Flack Sr was a hard working cop who kept crazies off the streets ad restored order. Too bad he couldn't bring that home where it really mattered. There was more to life than being a great cop. As far as Flack Jr saw it, he'd rather be known as a great husband and a great father. Because in the end, when the accolades stopped rolling in and you got to damn old and too damn tired to do the job anyway, your wife and your kids would still be there. They didn't and wouldn't judge you on all the arrests you made or the ones that got away. They would love you and accept you regardless. They wouldn't hurt you.

When he joined the academy and instructors saw his last name, unbelievably high expectations had been put on him to live up to, if not top, all his father had achieved. When he didn't graduate the top of the class, his father refused to attend the graduation ceremony. When he was the rookie to achieve detective status in record time, his father accused him of selling out and not putting in more time as a uniform to learn the ropes. Saying he showed his father up for eclipsing him at something. Embarrassing his good name. And when he woke up after having his insides torn apart in that bombing,the first thing his father asked was why the hell didn't he have the good sense to just get the hell out of there instead of trying to be the hero. And when he brought Samantha home that first time to meet his folks and she was subjected to stories of the Flack Sr days with the NYPD, smiling politely yet uncomfortable at the same time, his father had called him the next day to say he didn't think this was the right girl for his son. No good could come by being with another cop. Women didn't do the job half as good as the men and didn't really belong there. All that mattered to the old man was the job. He didn't care that his son was madly and hopelessly in love for the first time in his life. That he'd met that one that made him feel complete. He'd asked his father why the hell he always had to be a self righteous, ignorant ass hole. Why couldn't he just be happy for someone for a change? His mother had gotten on the phone and promptly gave him the same line of crap she'd been handing him since he was nine.

The stress of the job. The things you see out there on the streets, Donnie. His mother had said when he asked why his father was so angry. Why he hated them like he did. Its evil out there. It turns people that way. He doesn't mean it. He can't help it.

It wasn't until he had a wife and a kid of his own that Flack realized what a bunch of bullshit his mother had been handing him all these years. All the excuses. And that's exactly what they were. Because he saw a lot of sick, twisted shit that would give a normal person a mental breakdown and not once did he go home and drink himself into a stupor and beat the shit out of his wife and his kid. Not once did raise a hand to either of them out of anger or throw things around the house or take off for days on end. He wasn't the perfect husband or father. He knew sometimes he didn't help out as much as she'd like him to, or that it may have seem like he didn't appreciate all she did. He worked long crappy hours and missed out on a lot of milestones and important things, but dammit, at least he tried. At least he got up in the middle of the night despite being dead tired from working a double to pop a bottle in the kid's mouth or change a diaper. At least he remembered anniversaries and birthdays and other important occasions, even if he had to be reminded a few dozen times in the weeks leading up to it. Their marriage wasn't perfect. No one's was. But when you loved someone that much, where the thought of not having them in your life nearly killed you, you worked through all the pain and all the bullshit and you found a way to get through. Love wasn't suppose to hurt. And all his life the one person who was suppose to love him regardless had done nothing but hurt him.

And now, sitting in that diner, Flack Jr was disgusted at what he was seeing and what he was hearing. He'd called his dad in hopes of getting a little morale support. He'd been handed a pretty harsh reality check and he needed his father to tell him that everything would be okay. Look for a little ego boost, maybe. A 'You've done a good job with your life, son. Don't sell yourself short.' It wasn't coming this day. And it probably never would.

"Did you hear anything I just said?" he asked. "About the doctor's not thinking we can't have more kids?" It was a big deal to Flack. He'd always wanted a big family. They had their hearts set on at least a couple more. At least. Sam had been sick for a while. Migraines, excessive cramping, nausea. They'd honestly thought maybe she was pregnant. But when those tests came back and that doctor said 'massive cysts' and 'possible hysterectomy', the world had opened him up and swallowed him whole.

"I heard ya, Donnie," the old man said. "I just don't see what your feeling so bad about. You're a man for Christ sakes. Suck it up and get on with it. Concentrate on your work. Don't dwell on such petty shit."

"Petty shit?!" Flack lost it. "This isn't petty shit! This is my life! She's my life! Not the job! That's just something to pay the bills. 'Cause if it ever came down to it, and I had to choose between her and the job, you'd be sure as fucking sure I'd choose her!"

The old man slammed a fist down on the table and pointed a finger at his son. "Quit talkin' so much shit! That job made you! I made you! Ya think she'd be with ya if your name wasn't what it was?"

"She doesn't give a rat's ass about my name. She knew nothing about you until the day she met you and you subjected her to all the Donald Flack Sr is a goddamn martyr bullshit! Why am I even here? Can you tell me that? Why do I even bother? You've never been a father to me! Ever. And I'm sick and fucking tired of you ad your I made you crap!"

"Listen to me, Donnie..."

"No. You listen to me. We're done. I'm done. I'm not letting you do this to me anymore. From here on out, you're dead to me, old man. Dead." And with that he slid out of the booth and left that dive of a cafe and never looked back. Got in his car and drove to the crime lab and went up to the thirty-fifth floor.

She was coming down the hall towards the elevator, head down, engrossed in a file she was looking at. The love of his life. The mother of his child. She didn't even see him until she looked up and they were mere feet from each other. A smile crossed her face. "Hey," she said. "Didn't expect to see you here on your day off."

He didn't answer. He grabbed her so abruptly the file fell out of her hands as he wrapped his arms around that warm, comforting body. Tears flowed free and easy. And he didn't feel ashamed. "Tell me I'm a good man," he said into her ear.

"What? What's wrong?" she asked in alarm, embracing him tightly. "What..."

"Tell me. I need to hear you tell me. Tell me I'm a good man. Tell me I'm a good husband and a good father and that i make you happy and that you love me."

"Don...what...?"

'Tell me. Please." he begged.

"Your a great man and an amazing husband and an even better father," she assured him. Sincerely. Lovingly.

"I'll never hurt you," he promised. "I'll never hurt you."

"I know." she said.


	12. Chapter 12

**Same as before. I only own those you don't recognize. Couple new OCs introduced here.**

Chapter 12

You'll Think of Me: Keith Urban

"Someday, I'm gonna run across your mind

but don't worry I'll be fine.

I'm gonna be all right.

While you're sleeping with your pride,

wishing I could hold you tight,

I'll be over you

and on with my life."

**Sorry. Two sad ones in a row. This takes place a few months later.**

Lindsay never returned to New York. Last anyone had heard, she'd taken a job in Tulsa and had met a district attorney and was preparing a blow out wedding that no one in the lab was invited to. Not that they expected to be, considering the way things had gone down between her and Danny and they'd all had Danny's back. They held no spite and wished her well and hoped she was happy. And prayed the poor guy new what the hell he was getting himself into.

Alexis became a permanent fixture in the crime lab and in Hawkes' life. They had bought a little condo together and began tossing around the idea of marriage and children. Adam, despite his vow to remain single forever, had met a nice young lady. Heather Jackson, a perky little thing with black hair streaked with vibrant red and green eyes and piercings in her lip and nose and multiple tattoos. She worked part time in the cafeteria on the sixth floor while putting herself through NYU studying English in hopes of becoming a teacher and the world's next great author.

Danny had moved on with his life. He was on the promotion grid and devoted himself to his work and his little godson. The kid was his heart. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do for that kid. And with his first birthday approaching, Danny had ideas for the perfect present swirling around in his head. Most importantly, he'd met the one. He never thought he'd ever, ever say that following the mess known as Montana. But one minute he'd been standing in line at a Toys R Us minding his own business and the next he was looking into the most lovely grey eyes he'd ever seen. A little girl with curly blond hair and dimples and porcelain skin, who'd inadvertently grabbed a hold of his leg as she waited in line behind him with her mother. The mother, with the same hair and the same grey eyes and the same fair skin, had been mortified and kept apologizing over and over again. Danny had said no big deal. No harm done. She'd asked him who the Blues Clues stuffed animal was from. Son? He'd said his nephew. Godson, actually. Kid was a little under the weather with a cold and he wanted to cheer the little guy up. Introductions were made. She apologized again. He smiled and suggested she treat him to a coffee to make it up to him. And that's how Erica Viera and her little girl Morgan became a part of his life. That was for months ago. He had every intention on making them a permanent part of his life. Joining the old married couples club. He just wanted the perfect time and the perfect place.

He and Erica were getting ready to settle down in the living room with some junk food and a couple of movies. He could hear her down the hall, tucking her daughter into bed and reading bed time stories. He rarely spent time at this own place anymore. As far as he was concerned, this was his home. He was just nuking a bag of popcorn when his cell phone rang. He groaned noisily, expecting the worst. He wasn't scheduled on call, but it was a Friday and things were nuts on Fridays. He grabbed his cell from where it sat on the fridge and didn't bother checking caller I.D.

"Messer." he answered and was greeted by silence. He introduced himself again. Nothing. The third time he was more agitated and tempted to hang up. And then he heard it. That voice. It made his stomach knot up and his heart pound.

"Danny?"

"Lindsay." he said simply. It was just Lindsay now.The Montana days had long past.

She paused. "I ... I just wanted to call and ... I don't know... I just..."

"What do you want?" he asked abruptly.

'To talk to you." she replied.

"You haven't called me in seven months and now out of the blue you want to talk? What's goin' on? What do you want, Lindsay? I'm a little busy here. Make it fast."

"Things aren't going so well here. Mark isn't the man I thought he was."

"And you thought of calling me because?"

"I screwed up. I majorly screwed up. I took you for granted. I'm sorry. I miss the way you made me laugh and the way you made me feel and the way you smiled at me as if I was the most important thing in the world. I want to come to New York. To see you. Talk to you. Make things right. I miss you, Danny. I love you."

He snorted. "Too little too freakin' late, Lindsay. That's the past. I'm looking to the future and it doesn't include you."

"You've met someone?"

"I have."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Yeah?" he asked. "Well I'm sorry too. I'm sorry you didn't realize what you had 'til it was gone." and with that he hung up and made plans of asking the department for a new cell number.

"Who was that?" Erica asked, standing in the doorway. A knockout in a pair of skinny jeans and one of his t-shirts. She'd seen him toss his cell onto the top of the fridge.

He walked over to her and hugged her and kissed her. "No one important." he replied.


	13. Chapter 13

**I only own my OCs in this chapter. That's it.**

Chapter 13

Time Flies: Johnny Reid

"A baby's born.

Momma cries. She sees a glance of his daddy in his eyes.

Take him home and watch him sleep,

stand and wonder who he's gonna be.

Then its Tonka Trucks and baseball gloves

Then his first kiss and his first love.

Oh the innocence, just don't last.

Our dreams and our future go by so fast."

Kieran Flack turned one on a gorgeous early summer day. A slight breeze rustled the tree tops and the sun was high and bright in a vibrant blue sky. Much like the day that he opened blue eyes the same color when he entered the world. He was a bubbly, vibrant child who loved everyone and everything and never sat still for a second. He loved to shower people with sloppy wet kisses and gave bear hugs around the neck and grab a hold of anything those little hands could get a hold of. Your hair, your ears, your nose, the chain around your neck. He laughed easily and was alert and happy. And healthy. The most important part. For his first birthday, his mother and father had taken him to the zoo and then too a park by their house where Danny and Erica had set up a few picnic tables and put up balloons and streamers and ordered pizza for everyone. little Morgan spent her time pushing Kieran in the baby swings or taking him on the little kid slide or blowing him bubbles. the latter had him in a fit of giggles on the grass. Stella and Mac brought the ice cream and birthday cake. From the same bakery they'd purchased their cake for their upcoming wedding from. Hawkes and Alexis brought cold drinks and junk food. Adam and Heather and Sid and Marty Pino brought themselves. And they all brought a whole lot of gifts. So many in fact that Flack joked they needed to rent a one bedroom apartment just for Kieran and all his stuff.

At the end of the day, when all the cake and ice cream and pizza and junk food had been eaten and all the presents opened and everyone had gone home and the moon had replaced the sun, Samantha sat in the rocking chair in her son's room and held on tight to that sleeping one year old in his tiny Yankees jersey that bore Alex Rodriquez' autograph (how Danny had pulled it off remained a secret). It seemed like just yesterday that she sat in that exact same spot, cuddling a tiny eight pounder, staring down into his angelic face and feeling the most overwhelming sense of love take over her entire body.

And fear. So much fear it was crippling. She knew nothing about taking care of a baby. Of taking care of someone that was so utterly dependent on you for everything. She could barely stand the smell of a crappy diaper, let alone bear the thought of spit up and all the bumps and bruises he'd get as he grew up. She was terrified of failing him. Of failing herself. What if she forgot to feed him or change him? What if, God forbid, she forgot him some where! Panic and terror would set in at such a thought and it would lead to other thoughts of something terrible happening to him. She hadn't slept a month straight because she'd been consumed with thoughts of SIDS and did nothing but tip toe back and forth to make sure he was still breathing.

And now, a year later, sadness and longing crept into her as she sat there, staring at her son. Her little boy was growing up. Far too fast for her liking. He was walking well on his own and using a sippy cup and learning and using new words everyday. And everyday he was looking and acting more and more like his father. The physical resemblance could not be denied. But now he had the same mannerisms, the same facial expressions. And she was sure, if his vocabulary was good enough, he'd also be just as off hand and sarcastic. He was changing. Growing. And it made her happy to see him doing so well, but made her sad at the same time. It was all going by way to fast. She suddenly missed those days of three a.m. feedings and boiling and sterilizing the bottles and being able to hold him while he was awake for longer than thirty seconds.

And if the first birthday had come so quick, so would all the others. And soon it would be the first day of school. Talk of his first play ground girlfriend. His first play ground fight. Followed by playing sports and meeting real girlfriends and sharing real kisses and having real heartbreaks. High school and college and...

She closed her eyes shut. Too many thoughts. Things that shouldn't even be taking over her brain.

"You asleep?" Flack asked quietly from the door way.

"No... just thinking."

"About?" he softly padded into the room and stood beside the chair.

"Things. About how fast he's growing up. About how fast he'll keep growing. And how old we're getting."

"Speak for yourself." Flack said. But he was feeling a little down in the dumps himself. Wasn't an easy thing accepting that your first born was getting big. That he couldn't get back the things he'd missed. And that he may not get the chance with another baby to make up for it. "I think you should put him in his crib and come to bed," he suggested. "Its almost midnight. You've been in here for a couple hours. Give him to me and I'll tuck hm in."

She nodded. Passed her son over into the strong, capable arms of his father. Watched as Flack carried his son to the crib on the far wall and tucked him in snugly and securely. He'd always been caring and attentive. A real hands on dad. From the time he was talking to and listening to the baby inside of her, to know. From changing diapers and giving baths to putting together toys and getting down on the floor to play. "I love you, you know." she suddenly said.

He turned away from the crib and smiled at her. "I know," he offered his hand. "And I love you, too."

"I want to have another one. Or at least try to have another one." she said, as she took his hand and got to her feet. "I

think we should at least try."

"You know what I think?" he asked.

"What?"

"I think time flies by way too fast."

She nodded and agreement.

"And the having another one thing? Know what I think about? About trying to have another one?"

She waited for him to continue.

"I think trying's the best part and there's no time like the present."

She smiled. "Spoken like a true man," she said.


	14. Chapter 14

**I only own my OCs. Although I do wish I owned some of Stella's wardrobe.**

Chapter 14

Girls Lie Too: Terri Clark

"Don't think you're the only ones

who bend it, break it, stretch it some.

We learn from you. Girls lie too.

Other guys don't ever cross our minds. 

We don't wonder what it might be like.

How could it be any better than it is with you?"

"If you could be with anyone else from work, just once, who would it be?" Stella asked the table full of women. A half carafe of white wine and a glass filled to the brim in front of her.

"With as in a sex thing?" Alexis asked, pausing mid sip of her rum and coke. Her third double in an hour.

"Answering that honestly will only do two things." Samantha said, sipping an Electric Popsicle. "Get me or someone else punched out."

"Hey, its all in good fun." Stella assured her. "Not meant to hurt any feelings or fracture any friendships. Just a little harmless girl fun. Would you rather Alexis or I saying your husband or someone like Angell?"

"Good point." Sam said.

The three of them mulled over the choices in their heads as they nursed their drinks. They'd been at the Elixir cocktail bar a block from the lab for nearly an hour. A little girls night out that they'd been planning for a few days. All the men at home doing their own thing. Danny had come over to Flack's to watch the baseball game. Mac, as usual, was putting in over time at the lab. Hawkes had decided to stay on and do a double to finish up some work.

"Sam... you go first." Stella said.

"Me? Hey, just 'cause I'm the youngest doesn't mean I have to be the sacrificial lamb. You go first. Age before beauty."

Stella grinned. "As anyone ever told you that your the female Don Flack?"

"Sure... " she replied and crunched on an ice cube "the male Don Flack nearly twice a day every day."

"You know what they say about chewing ice," Alexis said. "I heard that women who chew ice, do it because they're sexually frustrated."

"Honey," Sam said. "There ain't enough ice in the world to do it justice. Trust me. God I hate rotating shifts."

"So?" Alexis asked Stella. "Who is it?"

"Sam... don't lean over this table and smack the shit out of me," Stella pleaded. "But I can't lie. Its Flack."

"Better you than some skank off the street," Sam said. "and hey, maybe you'd get lucky before me."

"Same goes for me." Alexis said. "Flack. Hands down. Sorry, Sam. I can't help it. Its the blue eyes. Your man is a total hottie."

Stella nodded in agreement. 

"If I was even half sober, I wouldn't know whether to be flattered or offended." Sam admitted. "My turn, huh? I'm gonna have to say...Danny."

Stella nearly spit a mouthful of wine across the table.

"What?" Sam asked innocently. "You said be honest. I'm being honest."

"He's your husband's best friend." Alexis pointed out.

"Oh I'm sorry. I wasn't aware of the rules of this game," Sam said sarcastically. "I can not and will not lie. And its all in good fun, right? I mean, I'd never actually do it. I can think about it and all but..."

"Oh my fucking God!" Stella shrieked. "You think about it? You and Danny?"

"I never said that."

"You did! You just said you can think about it but... but what?"

"I'd never do anything about it." Sam defended herself. "I love my husband.To death. Just, you know, sometimes I wonder what it might be like is all. I mean, come on, you two can''t sit here and tell me honestly you've never thought about other men. We're women. Its something we do. Just like they are sitting around talking about other women as we speak.Its human nature to wonder if the grass is greener. Not like I'd do it. Shit."

"Who you trying to convince? Us? Or you?" Stella asked.

She was about to respond when her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. She took it out, checked the call display and then flipped it open. "Hi, honey!" she greeted cheerfully. "Your ears must have been ringing. We were just talking about you... all good, I swear... I've only had one..."

Stella held up four fingers.

"I promise you I will not be too polluted when I get home... I promise... I know you have to work early tomorrow and can't be up all night... I'm being a good girl...I swear it... I'm cutting myself off at two, I promise...okay...I love you, too...bye.." she hung up and tossed the phone on the table. "Where's the waitress?" she asked, looking around. '"I'm running on empty here."

"Just two, huh?" Stella grinned.

"More like six." Sam giggled. "But what can I say? I can bullshit, too, you know."


	15. Chapter 15

**I only own Samantha. Although if I owned Flack...never mind. This is only rated T.**

**Please, please, please review. Makes me all warm and fuzzy inside.**

Chapter 15

Just Might (Make Me Believe): Sugarland

"I've got someone who loves me more than words can say.

And I'm thankful for that each and every day.

And if I count all my blessings I get a smile on my face

Still its hard to find faith.

But if you look in my eyes

and tell me we'll be all right

if you promise never to leave,

you just might make me believe."

**A small author's note on Chap. 11. Hurt by Johnny Cash is originally by Nine Inch Nails. Forgot to put it in. My apologies to any Man in Black and NIN fans.**

Another negative result. Another dashed hope and tossed into the trash can along with a woman's self esteem and confidence.

"I'm sorry," Flack said from the end of the bed, seeing the dejected, torn expression on his wife's face that mirrored his own. And he was sorry. Because she had wanted it so bad and she just couldn't bring herself to accept the fact that it may never happen. That this was it for them. He hated seeing her like that. And hated himself for not having anything better to say.

Three tests in as many months and all the same result. He was there, quietly and patiently waiting for the news as he had been there all the times before. She didn't have to tell him that she needed and wanted him there. Her foolish pride was too intact to ever admit to needing or wanting anyone, even him. He just silently offered up his services and support and knew that she appreciated it and welcomed it. The outlook had been positive. Three missed months. Yet three no go's. No baby on the way. It was just as the doctor had said might happen. That the condition would just rapidly progress and all cycles just stop. They'd been hoping, praying that this time it would be good news. They needed a little good news. But no such luck.

"Please don't say I told you so," Sam said quietly and sat down next to him.

"I'd never say something like that." he assured her, wrapping a comforting arm around her slender shoulders.

She moved closer to him, needing the warmth and the security that his strong body provided her with.

"It'll happen," he said, hoping he sounded confident. "Trust me. When we least expect it, it'll happen."

"I don't think so. I think this is a sign, Don. That we need to just accept the fact that we were only meant to have Kieran. There wasn't meant to be another. Just him. I think its time we come to terms with the idea of only having one child."

"There's other options," he suggested gently. "We could try in vitro, surrogate, adoption..."

"We've already looked into all that," she reminded him. "In vitro is way too expensive. You already said you didn't feel comfortable with the idea of another woman carrying a baby with half your DNA. And adoption? Again, expensive."

"We'd manage." he said.

"I'm sorry." she said sadly.

"For what?"

"I just... I feel so... I feel like a complete failure." she admitted.

"Hey," he said sternly and removed his arm from her shoulder and took her by the upper arms, forcing her to look at him. "There is no reason to feel like that. Look at us. We've got a pretty good life. We may not live in a penthouse on Park Avenue and drive a Rolls, but we're happy. And we love each other. And we have an amazing little boy. We achieved the miracle of life. That's a major accomplishment."

"As a wife, I feel like I've let you down in some way."

"First off, I am madly and passionately and desperately in love with you. Second of all, you gave me the most amazing gift the day you had my son. And your a great wife and an even better mother. Every day I'm in awe of you. Of how you manage to keep it all together. Our marriage, having a kid, having a career. Its all you, baby. I appreciate you more than I could ever tell you. You make me want to be a better man."

She smiled through tears and kissed him softly. "Thank you for being here." she said.

"I always will be. I'll never leave. You believe me, right?"

"I believe you." she said.

**Big shouts out to Maddison Bellows and Aphina. The best damn Betas a girl could ask for! And to anyone else reviewing, thanks!**


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

I Do: Paul Brandt

"Ive seen the storm clouds in your past,

but rest assured you are safe at home at last.

I rescued you, you rescued me

and we're right where we should be,

when we're together.

Will I promise to be your best friend?

And am I here until the end?

And can I be sure I have been waiting for you?

And did I say my love was true?

Baby I will, I can, I am, I have, I do."

**Another Canadian artist, another great song. This is it. I couldn't leave certain relationships up in the air so Pee-Tah threw in an extra song off the top of his head and this is the one.**

"Well," Danny said, leaning back in his chair and raising a glass of chapagne to his lips. "What do you guys think will happen now?"

He was at a linen covered table in a small banquet hall at the Sheraton Hotel that had been done up tastefully in shades of purple and arrangements of fresh flowers, with Flack, Adam and Pino. The bride and groom had gone off to chat with guests following dinner. Out on the dance floor, Stella and Mac, Erica with Kieran on her hip in his little ring bearer suit and Morgan in her stunninig flower girl dress holding her hand, and Samantha and Sid, were dancing to a song by Michael Buble.

"Whatever it is," Flack said. "I'm getting tired of wearing a tux or my dress blues so much."

"Amen to that," Adam said, tugging at his bow tie and winking at his girlfriend as she took his newphew from Erica's arms and twirled him around until he was giggling hysterically.

"This is all your fault, you know," Pino said to Flack. "You started all this when you and Sam decided to get hitched. It just sread through the place like the plague. Batchlors are a dying breed these days around here. All your fault."

"Yeah," Danny agreed. "so your the last person who should be bitchin'."

Since that day almost three years ago when Flack had decided to take the walk down the aisle of holy matrimony, two more couples had followed suit. Mac and Stella had had a small, intimate candlelit ceremony a month ago, followed by a dinner at a local restaurant for themselvs and the team. most expensive thing there had been the cake. Danny had proposed to Erica two weeks ago and the wedding plans were going full steam ahead. Everyone knew Adam and Heather weren't far behind. There was a baby on the way. And Adam was determined to do the right thing. And now...

"Ladies and gentlemen" the MC announced. "Would you please welcome once again, Dr and Mrs Sheldon Hawkes."

Guests returned to their seats and clapped as the newlyweds took to the dance floor. The lights dimmed and the strain of Nat King Cole's Unforgettable filled the air.

"My ankles are swollen." Sam complained, taking her husban's hand as she lowered herself into her seat. She looked stunning in a deep puurple empire waist Matron of honor dress that accentuated her nearly five month pregnant stomach. She looked closer to seven. But twins would do that to you. Three weeks following Heather's pregnancy announcement, Sam's own ept test came back positive. One baby was a miracle enough. Imagine their surprise when a sonogram showed two. Three babies would be joining the family in a matter of months.

"You're beautiful." Flack told her and kissed her soflty.

"Think they'll live happily ever after?" Stella asked Mac as they all watched the happy couple beaming at each other in lvoe and adoration.

"They will." he replied confidently.

"Are you in love with me as Hawkes is with her?" Erica asked Danny.

"I am." he answered.

"Can you see us like that one day?" Heather asked Adam.

"I can," he said, and gently pushed a piece of hair behind her ear.

"Have you ever felt that way about anyone?" Sid asked a young Marty Pino.

"I have." Pino said with a smile of recollection.

"Do you think we'll always be like this?" Sam asked Flack, holding his hand on her stomach. "Do you think you'll always love me like you do right now?"

He smiled and leaned over to press a kiss to her stomach. "I do."

**Thanks to everyone who kept reviewing and sending me e-mails. Much appreciated. I am currently working on  a story that will delve deeper into Flack's relationship with his wife. It'll be called Memories of Brooklyn. **


	17. Best I Ever Had

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I DO HOWEVER OWN SAMANTHA FLACK AND ANY AND ALL OF THE FLACK CHILDREN.**

**A/N: I HAVE RECEIVED SEVERAL REQUESTS FROM READERS TO SNEAK IN SOME CHAPPIES OF THIS RANDOM SONG THING I FINISHED MONTHS AGO. AND I COULDN'T RESIST OBLIGING. ANY SONGS YOU'D LIKE TO SEE? SEND ME A MESSAGE NAMING THE SONG AND THE CHARACTERS YOU'D LIKE TO SEE ME RIGHT IT ABOUT -BEAR IN MIND, ONLY PAIRINGS THAT I WRITE ABOUT- AND I WILL SEE WHAT I CAN DO!**

* * *

**BEST I EVER HAD**

"Now I know I messed up bad  
You were the best I ever had  
I let you down in the worst way  
It hurts me every single day  
I'm dying to let you know  
Now I'm here to say I'm sorry  
And ask for a second chance  
'Cause when it all comes down to the end  
I could sure use a friend  
So many things I would take back  
You were the best I ever had  
I don't blame you for hating me  
I didn't mean to make you leave  
You and I were living like a love song  
I feel so bad, I feel so bad that you're gone  
Now I know you're the only one that I want  
I want you back, I want you."  
-Best I Ever Had, State of Shock

* * *

He sat behind the wheel of the black SUV, staring across the street as the front porch light burned bright. He could see movement in the living room. Silhouettes passing back and forth behind the sheer curtains that graced the bay window. Rain pounding against the windshield and hammered against the metal body of the vehicle. The engine was on. The wipers turned on, the heat cranked up. Yet there wasn't enough warmth in the world to rid the chill that had taken over his entire body and froze his heart.

Two weeks ago, he'd walked out of the Brownstone, his bags in hand and her hurt, angry words echoing in his ears as the door slammed shut behind him. He'd messed up and gotten caught. It was all his fault that his entire life now hung in the balance. He'd betrayed the love of his life in the worst possible way. He'd found his way into the arms of another woman out of sheer lust and spite. A simple argument that could have easily been solved with a night on the couch and some begging and grovelling on his part the next morning, had turned into something so much more. He'd woken up in the arms of another woman. Severely hung over, the taste of bile in his mouth. He had been disgusted in himself as he'd looked over at the slinky, naked raven haired woman lying next to him. His eye were clouded with both tears and the veil of alcohol. And as he lay there, regretting what he'd done as he stared at that wedding band on his finger, he knew that he'd just gone and fucked his entire life up.

And for what? For what? He closed his eyes and banged the back of his head off the head rest behind him. All because he hadn't been able to swallow his pride and be a man, he'd tossed it all away. Hurt everyone he loved the most. An amazing, loving and supportive wife who'd, up until then, always supported him and put up with his shit. Best friends who, while letting him sleep on their couch, looked at him with nothing but sheer contempt and disgust in their eyes.

Most of all, he destroyed those incredible kids that missed him and sobbed to him on the phone whenever he called. Begging daddy to come home. To come home to them and to mommy.

He was terrified. He'd come there that night fearing, and expecting the worst. He was prepared to do anything to get her back. Or to at least listen to him. He had nothing to loose now. He'd been honest and remorseful when he'd arrived home after his affair and told his wife everything she needed to know. He could still see the pain in her eyes. The shock. He could still her asking how in the hell he could ever do that to her. How he could take everything they had and everything they made together and simply flush it down the toilet.

God, what he wouldn't give to take that night back. To erase the entire thing. To go back in time and settle the argument like an adult. Instead of running away like a spoiled, selfish brat. To find himself sitting across the kitchen table the next morning from his beautiful and loving wife and patching things up. Instead of finding himself lying on dirty, wrinkled sheets in seedy motel in lower Manhattan.

He took a deep breath and gathered his courage. Opening his eyes and leaning forward, he killed the ignition and pocketed the keys. With a final glance towards the house and a pray to heavens for some strength and wisdom, he tossed open the SUV door and jumped out of the vehicle.

Pulling his jacket over his head to protect himself from the vicious downpour, he hurried across the street and up the slick steps of the brownstone. It was home. His own. And this time, he wasn't leaving without a fight. But he wasn't about to go walking in with his key either and making her wrath any worse then it already was.

He laid a finger on the doorbell. And didn't let up until he saw, through the frosted glass on the side panel windows, someone step out into the breezeway. He knew, by the petite stature and willowy outline that it was her.

His world. His everything. The light of his life. His existence.

And within seconds, he found himself staring into those tortured eyes.

"I'm so sorry, baby," he whispered, agony in every word. "I never meant to…I'm so sorry…just please…I wanna come home…let me come home…I miss you…I love you…"

She shook her head and fought back tears.

"Please, baby," he pleaded. "I miss you. I miss my kids. I love you. Just let me in. We can fix this. I can fix this. I can fix me!"

She sighed heavily and bit her lip in contemplation. Then stepped back and motioned for him to walk inside.

Relief washed through him as he entered the breezeway. And there they stood, two lost souls, staring at one another. Words and feelings and mixed emotions tearing them apart.

Her mouth opened, she tried to speak.

He laid a fingertip over her lips, halting her.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "Everything I said, everything I did."

"Are you here to stay?" she asked. "Because I can't take this again. I can't keep letting you do this to me."

He pressed a tender kiss to her lips. Tasted the salt of her tears.

"This is where I belong, Montana," he said.

* * *

***EVIL LAUGH* It wasn't who you thought it was going to be, was it?**

**Please R and R folks! And offer up songs!**


	18. Every other weekend

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN CSI:NY OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. I DO HOWEVER OWN SAMANTHA FLACK AND ALL THE FLACK KIDS.**

**A/N: THIS LITTLE ONE SHOT IS BASED ON A PREVIOUS MENTION OF MARITAL STRIFE AND SEPARATION IN VIEWS FROM BROOKLYN. **

**Every other weekend**

"Every other Friday  
It's toys and clothes and backpacks  
Is everybody in, Okay, let's go see dad  
Same time in the same spot  
Corner of the same old parking lot  
Half the hugs and kisses there are always sad  
We trade a couple words and looks and kids again  
every other weekend

Every other weekend  
Very few exceptions, I pick up the love we made in both my arms  
It's movies on the sofa, grilled cheese and cut the crust off  
"That's not the way mom makes it, daddy," breaks my heart  
I miss everything I use to have with her again,  
every other weekend

I can't tell her I love her  
I can't tell him I love him  
'Cause there's too many questions and years in the car So I don't tell him I miss him  
I don't tell her I need her  
She's (He's) over me, that's where we are  
So we're as close as we may ever be again  
Every other weekend."  
-Every Other Weekend, Reba McEntire feat. Kenny Chesney

* * *

He watched through the rear view mirror of his black SUV as the familiar Volvo station wagon pulled into the parking lot of the local Catholic high school in Flushing, Queens. His heart pounded in his chest and emotional welled in his eyes and threatened to choke him as the vehicle slowed down as it came closer to where he was idling. It had been the same routine for nearly six months now. Visits with the kids every second weekend. He'd had to do a lot of begging and pleading with his superiors just to secure the two days out of fourteen off. Competing schedules with his soon to be ex-wife kept him from seeing his four children any other time. It broke his heart not to see them on a regular basis. To not be hear them running around the house screaming and yelling first thing in the morning. To not be able to sit on the edges of their beds and read stories and tuck them in and kiss them goodnight and tell them he loved them. Saying those words over the phone just didn't seem to cut it. He missed seeing their faces and hearing their voices on a regular basis. He missed picking up the toys that littered the front yard on his way into the house. He missed getting up in the middle of the night to attend to a toddler having a nightmare or a baby needing a bottle and a change.

Most of all, he missed the woman that he had created those five lives with. He missed the way her golden brown eyes sparkled when she looked at him. The way that her musical laugh seemed to brighten even the darkest day. He missed the smell of her hair and the feel of her soft skin. The way her small, soft hands felt as they travelled down his back and across his shoulders and down his arms during intimate times. The way her moist, warm lips felt as they moved against his. The sighs and the moans and the way she said his name. The way she clung to him desperately at the height of their passion. How her tiny body slid against his and snuggled in tight to him, her nose and lips tucked into the hallow of his throat and her arm and leg throw loosely over him.

Flack had missed that for a long time. Long before he'd actually physically moved out of the house. The truth was, she had checked out of their marriage soon after their baby had been born. Once Mikayla had arrived, things had drastically changed. Samantha had become sullen and distant. She rarely smiled anymore. She seldom laughed. She seemed tired. Physically and emotionally. And no matter how hard he tried -whether it be attempting to sit down with her and talk or getting her appointments into her doctor out of fear she was suffering from post-partum depression- nothing seemed to be good enough. And when she'd come to him six months ago and announced that it just wasn't working anymore, that she needed out before their life together suffocated her, he'd been hardly surprised.

But had been no less heartbreaking. To hear the woman that was his entire life tell him that while she loved him, she just couldn't be with him. Not right now. Maybe not ever again. She felt smothered. That she'd somehow, during their marriage, lost her identity. She felt like a maid. Like a child care provider. Like an occasional sex partner. He had admittedly, put her and the kids on the back burner in favour of the job more than was absolutely necessary. He had treated her like nothing more like a servant. And he deserved the words that she was saying to him. Even though his head had been screaming at her to stop. Telling him to just take her in his arms and hold onto her as tight as he could. To promise that everything was going to be okay. That he was going to change. To beg her not turn her back on him.

Yet he'd done little more then nod as she talked. He hadn't reached out to hold her or even brush her tears away. And when she'd said all that she'd needed to say, he'd sat, his heart ripped to shreds and tears threatening, and watched as she left the room. Her shoulders sagging and her head hung dejectedly. The next day he'd moved out of the house. He'd packed whatever he could into two suitcases and left before she and the kids woke up and moved back in with his parents. To the house he hadn't slept in since he was seventeen years old.

And since then, he'd been making the drive to the high school, every other weekend at ten am. Sharp. It just hurt too damn much to actually go to the house. Because the moment he pulled into the driveway, he was assaulted by years of memories. And a surges of guilt and shame. That he'd let outside interference tear them apart. That he hadn't fought harder to save his marriage.

Flack was pretty sure it was over. There didn't seem to be much hope of saving it. They barely spoke two sentences to each other as the kids made the switch from one car to the other. Eye contact was scarce. Physical contact didn't exist. He was pretty sure that she hated him. That she blamed him for everything that was wrong between them. Just like he blamed himself. But he loved her. Wildly and desperately. And he missed her with every once of his soul.

The station wagon pulled alongside of him and he gave a smile and wave to the Kieran in the front seat. The five year old was crying. Like he did every time he was dropped off. Whether it be going with his dad, or going back to his mom. The kid was an emotional wreck. And he didn't deserve that. He deserved to be happy and carefree. Running around the backyard and causing havoc. No worries in the world.

He deserved his mom and dad together. All the kids did. Thankfully the triplets, just nearing four, couldn't quite grasp the gravity of their parents break up. And Mikayla was only fourteen months old. Her only worries was whether her belly was full and her diaper clean.

Flack climbed out of the SUV and headed over to the car beside him, hands shoved in his pockets, his shoulders square and set. Confident despite the fact he was ready to break down completely. All he wanted to do, as he watched his wife slip out of her car, was wrap his arms around her and kiss her senseless and beg for another chance.

But he didn't. Instead he went around to the opposite side of her car and helped unbuckle the kids from their car seats. Allowing her soft scent to invade his senses as they worked in close quarters together. He listened to Kieran ramble on through his tears about the events at school since the last time they'd seen each other. He smiled and tousled the triplets hair as the girls told him about what had gone down in preschool in the past fourteen days. Declan, despite his age, was still non verbal. Though the doctors had said he'd talk in his own good time.

Children and weekend bags were shuttled from one vehicle to the other. The buckling and packing took less then fifteen minutes, but to Flack, it seemed like a precious eternity. For those fifteen minutes, they were a family again.

"You can keep them longer if you want this time," Samantha said, backing out of the SUV after kissing her children goodbye and making them promise to be good. She didn't look at him. But she stood close enough that their arms brushed up against each other every time they moved.

And to Flack, that small amount of contact was invaluable.

"You don't have to have them back until closer to bed time," she continued. "If you want to keep them longer, that is."

"I'd like that," he said. Hoping she couldn't hear the emotion in his voice. Thankful for the sunglasses perched on his face. So she couldn't see the torment in his eyes.

"Bye guys!" Sam called to the kids before shutting the back door,

A massive surge of relief swept through Flack at the sight of the diamonds in her engagement and eternity ring sparkling in the sunlight. She still had them and her wedding ring on.

That was a sign. That maybe things weren't totally lost. Because he couldn't bring himself to take his wedding ring off. To him, taking it off was permanent. And he wasn't ready to let go.

"You look good, Sam," he blurted out. Shocking not only her, but himself as well.

She recovered from her initial surprise and gave a soft smile. She gave their children a final wave. Then reached out and ran her hand up and down his arm before squeezing his bicep gently.

"You do, too, Don," she said, and abruptly turned on her heel and went back to her car.

He waited until she was settled behind the wheel and had buckled herself in before climbing back into his own vehicle. He did up his seat belt and glanced over at her. Taken back at the sight of her brushing away tears that glistened in the sun. Because that one glimmer of emotion meant that maybe all wasn't lost after all.

That maybe they'd be together again. Permanently.

Not just for fifteen minutes every other weekend.

* * *

**I notoriously suck at one shots. But I couldn't resist. Please R and R folks! Much appreciated!**


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